


Right Before We Crash

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fic!February, Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:52:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their rhythm was unique.  Always had been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Before We Crash

He didn’t do this.  It wasn’t in his DNA. 

“Hey hot stuff.  Can I buy you a drink?” a random, blonde guy asked.  _Ugh, blonde._   He forcefully pressed himself up against Mickey’s chest while simultaneously running his fingertips down his arms.  “Damn boy you’re built right.”  Mickey cringed as he placed one tattooed hand on the guy’s chest and pushed him away.  In a normal situation, he aimed for the face, the preferred posture of his hand in one knuckled form, the contour just right and ready to do the most damage.  It took him years to perfect the art of the knuckle sandwich, and this asshole looked hungry.  But he didn’t come here for that.  He couldn’t get kicked out of this place before he found him.

“Not interested,” Mickey said forcefully.

“Aww, c’mon baby.  Just one drink,” the blonde guy pressed.  Mickey tightened his jaw.  It took every ounce in him to _not_ knock this guy out.

“Ay, princess.  I said not interested.”  Mickey was pissed now, his fingers twitching with anticipation.  “Now back the fuck off before I loosen the Botox grip on your face faggot.”  The guy frowned and backed off of Mickey, the look on his face nothing short of disgust.  _Good._

“Well fuck you too!  And how about go to a club that isn’t _for_ faggots bitch.”  The guy turned around and stormed off into the mess of men, most of them wearing only their skin as shirts and in jeans too tight.  Mickey rubbed both hands across his face.  This was so stupid.  The strobe lights made him dizzy and the loud house music made his ears want to bleed.  Nope, this definitely wasn’t in his DNA.  But fuck all if one red head wasn’t roped in it somehow.  That’s probably why and how Mickey ended up at this rainbow parade of a dance party.   Fucking hell – a gay club.

He came here looking for Ian.  Mickey had followed him like a ~~lovesick~~ curious teenage girl, trailing behind him without being seen through the sidewalks and streets of Chicago, eventually ending up on the L.  He kept his hood tight around his face, making sure he couldn’t be made out.  Stealth mode.  He bumped into the red head earlier at the Kash N Grab, the old stomping ground painfully reminiscent.  Mickey tried speaking to him, acting as nonchalant as possible despite screaming inside, but Ian still wouldn’t speak to him.  Ever since he got back a month ago, he had been giving Mickey the silent treatment.  How lame, but it was working.  The only person who knew how much this pissed him off was Mandy.

_“He still not speaking to you?” Mandy asked a clearly upset Mickey._

_“Not a word,” Mickey responded._

_“You gotta try Mickey.”_

_“I am trying.”_

_“Try harder.”_

_“Fuck off.  I’m done with this.”_

_“Suit yourself,” Mandy said as she put on her coat.  “But maybe if you did something out of the ordinary, he’d give you a chance.”_

So here he was, swimming through a crowd of happy, prancing guys all too enthusiastic to be covered in some other dude’s sweat.  They were all over each other.  He didn’t know why he was taking this ride again, going after Ian.  He was certain they’d just crash as usual, but right before they did, he at least wanted to erase the ‘what ifs.’  So he drove full speed ahead.  Mickey felt himself clamming up, but he had to _try harder_ as his sister so eloquently put it.  He bulldozed through unknown groping hands, most on his biceps (seems like that’s what drew guys to him the most), others on his ass.  Go figure.  He frantically scanned the crowd, looking for that unmistakable flash of red.  He felt himself getting impatient, and was about to say _‘fuck it’_ and head for the hills.

Then he saw it.  Red.  Smack in the middle of the dance floor was Ian – dancing alone.  He looked as if he was in his own world, a drink in one hand.  Mickey was far enough away, more like short enough, where he couldn’t be seen by him.  Instead of walking up to him right away, he studied his prey with the utmost concentration.  The way he rocked from side to side.  The move of his hips.  The way his head lazily swayed in the opposite direction of his hips.  He was fucking beautiful.  The lights danced off of his hair, the way his blue shirt fit to his body causing every rip of his muscles to catch the colorful strobes at just the right angles.  His jeans fit just right.  He felt so fucking gay watching Ian like this, but Mickey was too far gone to give a shit.  He wanted him, and he wanted him _now._

He felt a pang of jealousy as he watched multiple guys come up to Ian, their rhythm so terribly off beat as they tried their best to press up against him.  But Ian would simply shake his head ‘no’ as he gently pushed them away and offered them a small smile.  _That smile._ The one that drove Mickey insane.  God was he so gone.  And to make matters worse, that damn song Ian loved so much came on, the one about insanity and clarity or some shit like that.  He caught sight of Ian’s face which instantly lit up when the first notes of the music hit the airwaves.  The way his lips moved as he mouthed the words had Mickey feeling sensations he was certain couldn’t be described.

_“High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life_

_Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time…”_

 

Mickey continued to watch Ian’s lips move as they curved perfectly around each syllable.  He knew every word of the verse, his excitement building as it got closer to the chorus.

_“If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_

_If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?”_

That was it.  He had to move in.  And Mickey would be lying if he said everyone around him didn’t seem to move in slow motion as he approached Ian.  He had to be smooth about this.

Real smooth.

He came up behind Ian, pressing his chest into Ian’s back.  He didn’t touch him right away.  Instead, he synced his body’s rhythm with his, making sure they were in tune.  For some reason, Ian didn’t turn around at the feel of Mickey pressed behind him, despite not seeing his face to know who it actually was.  He didn’t have to _see_ him – he _felt_ him.  Ian knew every inch of Mickey, from the way his chest felt, to the width of his hips.  He knew his scent.  He knew his heartbeat, and as they swayed to the music, he could feel it beating between his shoulder blades.  When Mickey got the hint that Ian knew it was him, he slowly wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him as close to him as he possibly could.  He caught a glance of the blonde guy from earlier, walking by the two of them and shooting dirty looks.  Mickey could care less.

He slowly moved the palms of his hands upwards until they were on Ian’s chest before resting his forehead right below his neck.  He smelled so damn good.  Ian’s body was hot, the temperature steadily increasing.  He dropped his glass he was holding, not caring if the glass broke and cut them both.  They would bleed together for all he cared.  He brought his hands up and rested them on top of Mickey’s as they continued to move to the music.  He leaned back into Mickey, slightly tilting his head backwards as Mickey angled his head slightly to the left.  His blue eyes landed on Ian’s neck, an irresistible piece of the red head Mickey always had trouble ignoring.  He kissed the back of Ian’s neck, feeling him shiver.  Ian slowly turned around at that point, that smile spread across his face.  He placed his hands in Mickey’s back pockets as Mickey maneuvered his hands underneath Ian’s shirt, feeling the sweat on his skin.

They were so in sync with each other and it had nothing to do with the music.

As they rocked to the beat, they pressed their foreheads together.  They could feel each other’s breath; one’s inhale the other’s exhale.  Ian pressed their pelvic bones together, a perfect fit.  He smiled as he closed his eyes, refusing to think of his own theories of how Mickey found him.  Instead, he decided to ask.

“What are you doing here?” he said into Mickey’s ear.

“Trying harder,” Mickey responded. 

Ian’s smile widened.  He brought his hands up and placed them around Mickey’s neck, Mickey wrapping his arms tightly around the small of Ian’s back still refusing to move them from under his shirt.  They pressed their foreheads back together, moving to the beat of their own drum. 

Their rhythm was unique.  Always had been.   

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one shot to the song "Clarity" by Zedd. Most of my writing is inspired by music. I've always had this head canon about Mickey following Ian to a club, them dancing to this song, all of the mushy stuff. Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
